


could be a passing phase, another nasty wave

by unsaved_misc



Series: carmatt adventures [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, supermega
Genre: Caretaking, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:22:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsaved_misc/pseuds/unsaved_misc
Summary: matt wakes up in a gross mood
Relationships: Carson Tucker/Matt Watson
Series: carmatt adventures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831831
Kudos: 16





	could be a passing phase, another nasty wave

**Author's Note:**

> aaaa!!! more carmatt!!!! my fav pairing tbh :))

Matt knew it wasn’t going to be a good day when his dad was calling him, at 7 in the morning, to talk about his political views. His dad, especially with the time difference between California and South Carolina, never had an appropriate time to call Matt, either early in the morning or when Matt was at work. And, oh God, he would never let those calls go on video like he did with Sam or his mom. His dad usually got angry and had a stern conversation with him later that day, about how he “hadn’t matured since high school” and “making gaming videos for little kids online is not a stable career.” No shit, it wasn’t a stable career. But Matt got paid to play video games with his best friend, Ryan, and that was fine. Matt already felt like shit when he opened his drowsy eyes, a nightmare-filled sleep tumbling through him last night, and a dull headache in the back of his skull. He could see “Dwayne Watson 👴” on his caller ID, phone incessantly buzzing and the sound elevated by five, at least. Matt couldn’t even read the name for a straight six seconds, and he reluctantly slid Accept on the call.  
“Hey, Dad.” He greeted sleepily, his voice sounding like he’d smoked two packs of cigarettes before answering the phone.  
“Hey, Matthew,” his Dad’s Southern accent rang through, “You feelin’ alright? That Covid get to ya yet?”  
‘No,’ Matt thought, ‘but it’ll get to you before me if you don’t start protecting yourself.’ He instead put on a fake smile and responded in a fake voice.  
“Hah, No, Dad. Just woke up though.”  
“At 10 AM? You’re such a dropout, Matthew.” His dad seemed to have forgotten the time zones again. Matt wanted nothing more than to just hang up and fall back asleep.

“Anyway, I was callin’ you to see if you heard about what’s on the news. That whole...the statue thing? It’s uncalled for!” Matt really didn’t want to have this conversation.  
“Just because you have Confederate views doesn’t mean everyone else does.” Matt replied with a sigh, having been through this conversation countless times before. He heard his dad sputtering on the other end, and Matt was wondering if this call was really making him this upset, or if the strange feeling in his stomach and his headache were the cause of something else.  
“I know that, Matthew! It’s just...y’know, a removal of our history. Just because he hated colored people-”  
“-don’t say colored, Dad-”  
“-doesn’t mean he did a lot for our history. I mean, hell, look at George Washington. He had slaves!” Matt sighed, rubbing at his eyes and trying not to panic as nausea climbed his throat.

“Maybe they should take down statues of him too, then.”  
“Don’t you give me sass, son! I’m just telling you my opinion.” But Matt wasn’t really listening to what his father was ranting and raving about, because he had the sudden realization he was going to throw up. He hurriedly said a goodbye that basically sounded like gibberish, and bounded out of his bed, slipping and almost tumbling to the floor as he raced to the bathroom. He barely even had time to get ready and aim his head into the toilet when bile was coming up his throat and out of his mouth, retching into the toilet. It only lasted for a few seconds before it stopped, lingering on his lips as he gasped for air. Matt squeezed his eyes shut, knowing if he looked at that toilet his panic attack would be even worse. And then, the door opened.  
“Matt?” He heard a familiar voice call out to him, and Matt turned to look at the open doorway. Carson was standing there with a concerned look on his face, wearing sweatpants dotted with dried paint and a baggy t-shirt that Matt had a sneaking suspicion was his own. Matt attempted to speak, but nothing came out, his throat burning as he leaned back toward the toilet to let more out. In the background, he could hear Carson hurry into the bathroom, mumbling words and rubbing Matt’s back as he puked.  
“Oh god, Matt, I’m sorry...It’s okay, just breathe- No, Harry, he’s okay, I got him. Just breathe, Matt-” Matt finally stopped retching again, laying his head on the toilet seat and heaving. Carson lowered himself onto the tile floor, stroking a hand through Matt’s hair and watching his face.  
“Hey.” He gave a shy smile, and Matt was glad Carson had woken up when he did. Even though he was done vomiting, Matt could feel his heart beating a mile a minute, anxiety winding through his veins and making his arms feel like lead. He remembered the toilet, what was in it, and backed away quickly into the wall. He winced at the thumping in his head.  
“Matt?” Carson asked, but Matt couldn’t answer, lip trembling as tears began to spill over. The anxiety always hit him after, the creeping thoughts of ‘oh god i’ll puke again it’ll hurt i won’t be able to sleep i just want to crawl in a hole and cry i need to get away,’ and he just made himself as small as possible on the tile floor. Carson frowned, brow knit in concern, and scooted closer to Matt.  
“Matty?” He repeated, touching the man’s arm, which happened to be very warm and sweaty. Matt shook his head, digging his nails into his arms as he hid his face in his knees.  
“No, no, no-” Matt mumbled, his shoulders trembling. Carson grasped his hand, pulling it away so he didn’t hurt himself.

“Come here, Matt, please.” Carson directed, and Matt fell into his arms, grasping onto him for dear life and pulling fistfulls of his t-shirt. Carson held him close, rubbing his back and keeping a hand in his hair, remembering the way his mom used to hold him after he puked as a kid.  
“D-don’t move, please.” Matt mumbled into Carson’s shirt, and Carson nodded, kissing the top of his head. They sat in silence in the bathroom for a while, muffled talking in the hallway as Harrison was probably telling Jackson to go back to sleep. It was cold, dark, quiet, the air still as Carson waited for Matt to either calm himself down or throw up again. Truthfully, Carson had woken up to watch the sun rise, painting to the sound of the birds and some gentle lofi music playing through his room. He thought he could’ve heard Matt’s voice at one point, brushing it off as sleep talking, but he almost jumped though his skin when he heard the loud banging noise that was Matt Watson. Carson felt a lot better knowing he’d been awake and able to take care of Matt, even if Harrison was on his heels. Carson couldn’t place the feeling: pride? Relief? Either way, he was there for Matt to grab onto and cry against.

Now that he thought about it, Matt was starting to quiet down, sobs turning into sniffles and shoulders only jolting every now and then instead of trembling. Carson decided to break the silence.  
“Matt? You okay?” Carson asked, kissing Matt’s head again. Matt swallowed hard, taking in a shuddering breath.  
“I think so.” His voice was almost inaudible, muffled by Carson’s (really, it was Matt’s) shirt. “I don’t feel sick anymore, I’m just...nervous.” Carson nodded in reply.  
“You wanna try standing up, Matt? I can help you.”  
“I’m scared.” Matt’s breathing hitches at the thought.  
“It’s okay. I won’t leave you, I won’t go anywhere. I can bring a bucket too so you won’t even have to come in here if it happens again, which it won’t anyway.” Carson assured him, and Matt peeked his head out finally, eyes red and puffy with tears. He seemed to be thinking it over, chewing his lip before finally nodding. Matt detached himself from Carson, who stood and held out a hand for Matt to stand. The elder was shaky on his feet, quivering as he latched onto Carson’s arm and follow him into the man’s bedroom. It had a peaceful air to it, the new dawn’s sun crawling across the floor through the blinds. Matt looked over at Carson’s desk, a large canvas with the beginnings of a sunset painted on it, a steaming cup of coffee.  
“Here,” Carson interrupted Matt’s swimming train of thought, directing him to lay down on the bed. Matt was stiff, trying not to rustle the sleeping monster in his stomach, laying over top of the covers on his side. Carson knelt beside him, cocking his head and looking at the nervous, scared boy in front of him.  
“Can I get you anything, Matt?” Carson asked, reaching out and grabbing the elder’s hand tightly. Matt was surprised that Carson was being so touchy and caring while he was sick, wondering if the boy was worried about it being contagious. Carson was never this touchy normally, and Matt was starting to enjoy it. One benefit of being sick.

“Just...a bucket. Please.” Matt mumbled, watery blue eyes staring back at Carson’s chocolate brown ones. Carson nodded, stepping out of the room, and Matt closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, listening to the lofi playing on Carson’s phone across the room, feeling his heart rate finally start to slow down. He hadn’t thrown up in such a long time, not used to the lingering taste in his mouth or the anxious feeling that followed him afterward. Matt was glad this didn’t happen much, because even if the puking was over, his body still felt weak and shaky. He could hear footsteps and looked up to see Carson enter the room, a wastebasket in one hand and a water bottle and bottle of aspirin in the other. Matt felt his stomach plunge.  
“C-Carson, I can’t-”  
“You have to, Matt. You might get dehydrated if you don’t.” Carson placed the bottle on the nightstand. “I won’t rush you, though.” Matt nodded, scooting aside so Carson could sit on the bed beside him. Carson placed the bucket on the floor next to the bed and grabbed a light blanket, covering Matt’s shivering body with it. Matt thanked him, pulling it up to his chin. There was a period of comfortable silence between them, the music filling the space, the sun beginning to rise even further into the sky.  
“I-I guess I gotta take a drink if I want aspirin. My head is fucking killing me.” Matt reached over and popped two pills, taking a very timid sip of water. He paused before taking another, and Carson smiled.  
“There you go, Matt.” He watched as Matt settled back down against the pillow, looking very drowsy and pale (well, paler than normal Carson supposed). Carson had that weird urge to stroke Matt’s hair again, and he did so. Matt closed his eyes at the sensation.

“You wanna go to sleep?” Carson asked gently, and Matt nodded. Carson nodded back in reply, laying down on the bed as Matt shuffled aside to give him some room. Matt snuggled up to him, breathing in his familiar scent of vanilla and cologne, and he finally felt like he wasn’t panicking. Carson, on the other hand, enjoyed having Matt in his arms, listening to the sound of his breathing as the morning came upon them. He’d nap for a moment, at least until 10, and he'd spend the day taking care of Matt. It didn’t sound like the best way to spend a day, but Carson didn’t mind. Knowing he could help Matt feel better, more comfortable, less scared, made him personally feel more secure. It was just that urge deep down to take care of someone he loved. He kissed Matt’s head one last time before he closed his eyes, attempting to drift off into a pleasant sleep.

-

sorry for hanging up dad, i got sick  
Sent 12:31 p.m.

I told ya you got the covid! Lol!!! 😂  
Read 12:32 p.m.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed!! please leave feedback :)) <33 dale watson needs to be educated!!


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